


Utility

by DDBarant



Series: The Crossover: Bar Stories [5]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-12 07:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19564552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DDBarant/pseuds/DDBarant
Summary: Batman meets with a mysterious figure who seems to have the ultimate utility belt.





	Utility

Batman sat alone in a back booth of the bar, his drink untouched in front of him. He used the place, far outside Gotham—far outside reality, in fact—for his most clandestine of meetings. Though the Crossover Roadhouse saw its fair share of rogues, mercenaries, and outright criminals, it was an ironclad law that nobody caused trouble for anyone else; indeed, local physical laws made that an actual impossibility. So it was the perfect place to meet The Master Planner.  
The man himself walked up and slid into a seat opposite without preamble. He wore a black suit and tie, and a black hood over his head that kept his face eternally in darkest shadow. Two coldly intelligent eyes stared out of that unnatural darkness, and met Batman’s without flinching.  
“It’s done?” Batman asked.  
The Master Planner nodded. He reached into a black bag at his side and brought out a familiar-looking yellow belt; oval-ended, golden cylinders were spaced evenly along its length. He placed the belt flat on the table in front of Batman. “Ray Palmer tech,” he said. “Each cylinder holds as much or as little as needed. First up are the Batarangs. I found a world where Captain Boomerang hired Lex Luthor to build an arsenal for him—Luthor reverse-engineered every superweapon he could get his hands on and turned each of them into your favorite weapon. Freezerangs, Burnerangs, Mirrorangs . . . batarangs that can control the weather, shrink a target, transmute the elements or open a Boom Tube. Every option you can think of, in a sleek black throwing blade.”  
He tapped another cylinder. “The chemical suite, in case you need to get up close and personal. The cocktail includes Venom, Velocity 9, Miraclo, Gingold Extract, Mongoose Blood, Sakutia vaccine, Man-Bat serum and a version of the Mr. Hyde formula. It will turn you into a raving, shape-changing monster that can fly, moves too fast to be seen and is strong enough to throw around tanks. Shock and Awe in a hypodermic.”  
“You’re starting to sound like a car salesman.”  
The Master Planner chuckled, a dry sound that was barely more than a rasp. “Well, I’ve been around for a while, haven’t I? Took a few decades to round all this up . . .guess I’ve picked up a few bad habits along the way.  
“Keep going.”  
“The neural recorded Martial Arts of Master Sensei XXXV, from the year Ten Million. Master Sensei spent centuries of his immortal life studying and mastering every martial art known to sentient life, including many esoteric ones devoted to metahuman abilities. It’s all encoded on a nanochip that bonds to your brainstem on ingestion, and provides full nervous system integration within seconds.”  
The Planner tapped the next cylinder. “The Warsuit. Transuniversal Celestial body armor with integrated Apokaliptan weapons platform. This thing was designed to kill gods. Stars and planets too, if they get in the way. Able to withstand the heat of a supernova, or the gravity at the heart of a supermassive black hole. It’s said to be the only piece of equipment to ever manage to blast a hole in the Source Wall.  
“Next is the Spectrum Ring. Forged in the heart of a dying universe. The entire emotional color spectrum is represented, from White to Black, including a few that only exist in this form, like Hyperviolet or Ultragold. Can create virtually anything, and the ring magnifies the willpower of its bearer, too; whoever has this on their finger could hold off the entire Red, Green, Yellow and Indigo Lantern Corps without breaking a sweat.  
“And of course there’s the Batmobile—or Bat-Cruiser, more like. It takes up the most space; I wouldn’t open that one indoors, or even in the street. Try for a few acres of prairie, the open ocean, or somewhere out of the atmosphere.”  
“Specs?”  
“Designed by Brainac 7, built on New Genesis and retrofitted by Rip Hunter. It can navigate hypertime, surf the Bleed between universes and handle interstellar distances. On-board ordinance includes Thanagarain, Khund, Rannian and Kryptonian weapons systems. Large-scale Phantom Zone Projector, medical bay with Purple Ray, Lazarus Pit Chamber and full cryogenic Talon tubes. The AI is modelled on a heavily-modified Mother Box.”  
“Sounds adequate.”  
“Next up is an acutal genie in a bottle . . . a fifth-dimensional Thunderbolt slaved to the owner with a control phrase. Just in case you need to rewrite actual physical laws or undo reality itself.  
“Also on the metaphysical level is the Helm of Anubis, a multiversal variant on the Helmet of Dr. Fate. Wearing it gives you the power of a Lord of Order, one of the fundamental forces of the Universe. Not quite as flashy as an imp in a purple bowler hat, but equally powerful. The Helm and the Thunderbolt actually complement each other well: Chaos on the one hand, and Order on the other.”  
There were only two cylinders left.  
“The penultimate selection is called the God Option. The Wizard of the Rock of Eternity took some convincing, but he finally saw reason. The fifty-two letters that comprise the magic transformation spell is more of a phrase than a single magic word, but it does the same trick. The abilities manifested by the one who utters the phrase were taken from fifty-two of the most powerful beings that exist within a hundred dimensions. They include Swamp Thing’s mastery of the Green, the Dark Phoenix’s mental powers, the various specialized powers of the Elders of the Universe, and the full might of the Spectre.”  
“Will it be enough?”  
The Master Planner paused. “I don’t know. But it’ll have to be, won’t it?”  
“I suppose it will . . . And what’s in the last cylinder?”  
“An item I took from the armory of a creature called Galactus. It’s known as the Ultimate Nullifier; able to destroy anything, at the cost of destroying the one who uses it. A Mutually Assured Doomsday weapon.”  
Batman considered the belt lying on the table, and its almost unimaginable destructive potential. He sighed, and pushed it back toward the Master Planner. “It’ll have to do. Thank you for all your work.”  
The Master Planner nodded, and put the belt back in its case. He took a slender metal rod from the inside pocket of his jacket and held it before Batman’s eyes. “This is called a Neuralizer. I found it on an Earth with a large, mostly hidden alien presence. It will erase your memory of the last fifteen minutes.”  
“I understand. Good luck.”  
It was impossible to tell in the darkness that hid his face, but the Master Planner gave Batman a rare smile. “No, Bruce. Luck is not what we need. What we need is perfection. And even if that’s not possible, we’ve come about as damned near as anyone could.”  
He took a slim black envelope from another pocket, placed it on the table, and then fired the Neuralizer.  
When Batman finished blinking, he was alone. There was only the envelope on the table before him. He picked it up, opened it, and began to read.

Dear Bruce: you just gave me the thumbs up. We’ve prepared as best we could for the worst possible scenario. You seemed confident that our preparation will be sufficient.  
Hopefully, you will never see me again. And if you do, I will be the last thing you see—I promised you that at the beginning, and I promise you that now.  
I go now to await a time we both hope will never arrive. My very existence is owed to you; as your clone, I understand the reason for that existence, and the heavy weight of responsibility that comes with it. I will not fail you, brother. Powers innumerable will keep me hidden and slumbering yet ever-vigilant; even as I sleep, I remain constant and true.  
Should Batman ever—through sorcery, or chemistry, or grievous psychiatric abberration—become a force for evil, his counterpart stands ready to wake . . . and stop him. 

Batman read the letter several times. He shook his head, slowly. Then he folded it several times and slipped it into a pouch in his utility belt, among the other tools he stored there.  
He hoped it would be enough.

#thecrossover.thecomicseries.com


End file.
